Winter’s Ending
In a few more weeks, Kyoto should be covered in sights like this
I woke up at 8:30am on what may have been the first day of spring in Kyoto. The weather’s been warming up lately, and I noticed yesterday that the buds on some of the Ume trees were looking lined up at the starting line, getting ready to bloom before anyone could notice. It seemed like a good occasion to write a brief blog, although I should warn the reader that it’s distracted and perhaps not too interesting.
When I got out of bed, I wasted a little time online and played two games of go, one of which left an especially bad taste in my mouth. So bad, in fact that a little while after the second one was over, I decided I had to get out of my room. I put a grammar textbook and my electronic dictionary in my shoulder bag and headed out. Odd as it may sound, MdDonalds is doing a campaign right now under the concept of “Big American Burgers,” and the current burger, a “Hawaiian” burger with egg, bacon and sweet BBQ sauce, was appealing enough that I kind of wanted to try it. Partially because I was ravenously hungry and hamburgers are made of meat. Not noodles or rice.
Unfortunately, the burger was not so great, and I was feeling particularly upset about the events of the morning. I felt disgusted with my ego, and it only reminded me that I still need to work on growing up. No matter how irritating or disproportionately stuck up someone is, it’s not appropriate to get upset or be mean to them. It’s not my job to check people, and I need to learn how to remember this and not get so zealous. Hopefully this year will be a year in which I get closer to holding confidence while letting the ego go.
I fled from the Mcdonalds, burger unfinished and ice tea in hand. I got on my bike, and started riding, just wanting a place to lay down in the sun. I turned down side street after side street, and went past several schools, the sound of kids making a ruckus drifting out on the wind. It was pretty warm in the sun, so I stopped outside one of the giant netted-in school grounds and shoved my coat into my bike’s basket before continuing on. When my road finally ended, I found myself at Arashiyama.
Arashiyama has to be one of my favorite places in Kyoto, so I was glad I had weaved my way there. My body knew something my mind hadn’t thought of. For a while I considered renting one of the row boats alone and rowing up the river for an hour or so. I just wanted to get some exercise in the sun, even if I didn’t have anyone to roughhouse with. But in the end, I just parked my bike outside the entrance to the trail that leads up to the monkey park, and set off along the thin road that traces the side of the river as it weaves out of the mountains. After a while I found a place where you could walk down to a fairly large, sharp outcropping of rock that flowed down towards the water’s edge, and there I just laid down in the sun.
There weren’t many people around, although occasionally passer-by’s would pedal along the road above me. And after about an hour, I started writing the introduction to a story, in both English and Japanese. At some point during the process, a touring boat came up the river towards me. The boss of one of the tour-boat shacks that line the upper portion of Arashiyama was giving instructions to a new employee, and I stopped writing to watch him pole the boat around the river as his boss explained to him how to navigate some of the trickier parts. They did the course a number of times, and I idly watched the boat make its rounds as crows flying over-head called out and landed nearby to wash in the river.
When I headed back, I accidentally found the bamboo forest that everyone likes so much at Arashiyama, and ended up buying some postcards that an old man there had painted from a stand along the path. Since I decided a few days ago that I should try to talk to Japanese strangers more often and I got a decent amount of conversation from him, as well as some beautiful postcards, I think it was a really good detour. He had originally called out to me in English when I happened to look over at his stand, and when I replied in Japanese both he and the mid-30′s couple with which he’d been having conversation were rather surprised.
I bought 5 post cards (hopefully to be used when I get better at this mailing thing) and he gave me his card. I thought he was a fairly wonderful artist, and he explained that he sets up stands in Kyoto and Osaka, and also seems to do exhibitions with his work every so often. I’m still not sure if his interest in talking with me had more to do with the fact that he’s a salesman, or the fact that he’s an artist. Maybe both.
On the way home, I noticed that groups of Ume trees here had started putting out the blossoms they promised the day before. I sincerely hoped that there wouldn’t be another strong cold front, and suddenly wanted to drink orange juice. Anything to keep the sun in mind. . .
